He stopped pacing. Why would Dumbledore have disregarded signs of abuse? No. Sirius couldn't believe that. He could believe that abuse had been missed – hadn't his own abuse at the hands of his dear mother been overlooked until he'd run away from home? But he couldn't quite dismiss his underlying notion that Dumbledore wanted distance between Sirius and his godson. Possibly Dumbledore thought Harry's muggle relatives provided a safer environment than Sirius – and OK, it wasn't as though Sirius could provide a home while he was on the run.
Or Dumbledore might just not trust Sirius.
Which sounded more likely because Dumbledore had always had trouble seeing beyond the Black name Sirius carried.
Wasn't that why he hadn't even rated a visit from the leader of the Order of the Phoenix after being imprisoned? Everybody got a second chance with Dumbledore except for Sirius it seemed. Sirius wondered if Dumbledore would have stood by and let him be kissed. Certainly it seemed like the kids had gained some kind of approval from the Headmaster to save him but…but just why was it that the kids had needed to save him? Why couldn't Dumbledore guarantee him a fair trial? Wasn't he the Chief Warlock? Sirius was aware that the old wizard didn't like to wield the power the wizarding world had given him too often but he had power.
Power was something that the House of Potter and the House of Black had once enjoyed; magical power aplenty certainly, but both families had also built financial and political alliances. And it was that kind of power that Sirius truly needed if he was going to protect Harry; from the Death Eaters, from Peter, from the possibility of Voldemort rising again. It was that kind of power which would get Sirius what he wanted from the Ministry, namely his name cleared and guardianship of Harry so he could ensure his godson had everything he needed – love, happiness, fun, security.
And he evidently needed that same power to ensure that Albus Dumbledore couldn't stop Sirius from being with Harry, if that was Dumbledore's plan.
Sirius looked up at the night sky and shook his head in denial of where his thoughts were leading him.
A rush of wind touched him and he breathed in the scent of lilies. At least he knew he had her approval. "You always said that you would do anything to keep Harry safe, Lily-flower. I always said I would do the same but I didn't get it until now that anything means anything."
Another breeze brushed over him. It felt comforting and familiar; affection, safety and family all tangled together in a way that spoke of love.
Sirius closed his eyes again, grief rocking through him. James. He gave a short, humourless laugh. "You shouldn't approve too soon, James, because you're not going to like my plan. Merlin knows I don't like my plan."
But if it was power Sirius needed…he looked back at the house and whistled for Buckbeak. It was time to retreat to the one place Sirius had never called home.
XXX
They landed in the back garden of 12 Grimmauld Place. Everything was overgrown and unkempt; a wild tangle of tall grass, weeds and flowers that had escaped their beds and meandered all over the once pristine lawn. The old trees that bordered the property created dark imposing shapes in the night. The protective statues were pale lumps of marble. They didn't wake with his arrival and Sirius breathed out in relief.
The house was under a Death Fidelius. He'd known that being a Black was enough to see the house but he'd been unsure that the actual wards around the property would accept him. He had been an outcast because of his allegiance to the Light – to the Potters – and had been worried that there might have been something to keep him out specifically.
He threw a look at the neighbouring houses. He knew the spells disguising the garden and house would mean muggles and other wizards would skip over Number 12 and see the next house along. "You can stay in the garden, Buckbeak, or go on your way." He said fondly. "You've saved my life and I thank you."
Buckbeak bowed low and Sirius did the same. The hippogriff turned and launched itself back into the air; a couple of sweeps of its powerful wings later and it was out of sight.
"Safe travels, my friend." Sirius murmured in the darkness. He made his way to the house, taking the side path to the steps down to the back door that led into the basement, the old merchant's entrance.
The narrow black door opened on his approach. It looked as though the wards had granted him more than simply access; they were inviting him in. Sirius took a deep breath and entered his childhood home.
The smell of dank mould and decay hit his nostrils immediately and he cursed his sensitive Padfoot nose. He wished he had a wand to dispel the stench. He stepped into the small receiving area for tradesmen and the door closed behind him, locking him in; the gaslight flickered on recognising his presence. Sirius ignored the doors to his left which would lead to a potions lab, a cell that he would rather avoid, and a staircase down to a cellar. He headed up the staircase to his right instead and came out in the long narrow kitchen.
The room was filthy with dust and dirt. He grimaced and hoped the rest of the house wasn't in a similar state. He'd been informed of his mother's and grandfather's death by the warden so for the house to be deserted and empty wasn't a surprise. He'd just expected the old house elf, Kreacher, would have kept up maintenance. Maybe the elf had died. Or his mother had killed him. He wouldn't put it past the barmy old bitch.
He opened up the door that led to the reception hall.
"YOU!"
His mother's voice had him snapping around in shock, his heart pounding. A portrait glared back at him in the half-light coming through the window above the front door.
A familiar pop signalled the arrival of the missing elf. The aged being took in Sirius with a glare. "You is not welcome here, Master."
Master.
Sirius smiled at the elf's unwilling confirmation of what Sirius had hoped: that with the passing of his grandfather, it was Sirius who was the recognised heir and Head of House. "My house, Kreacher." He stated firmly. "You can stay and obey me or you can have clothes."
"Kreacher will stay despite the traitor to his mistress who is now his master."
Sirius let one eyebrow creep up in his forehead and the elf shuffled his feet and pulled at his ears, punishing himself automatically for his disparaging remark. "You will refer to me as Lord Black. You will not tell anyone of my location ever. You will obey only me and you will inform no-one of my secrets. You will speak to no-one without my express permission. Is that clear?"
"Kreacher obeys Lord Black."
"He's not Lord yet." His mother sniffed in her portrait. "The rings are in the vaults. I hardly think you, a convicted criminal, will be able to get to them. At least, you redeemed yourself at the end."